Experimenting
by enigma-kar
Summary: John just wanted to have a shower. Typically, one of Sherlock's experiments gets in the way... with unexpected results.


**Disclaimer: **Sherlock remains property of the BBC

A/N: _Second _Sherlock_ fic (slightly more original this time) - just a bit of fluffy domestics, because it's bound to happen eventually. Implied established John/Sherlock. Reviews are love. :)_

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**Experimenting**

"Sherlock!"

The detective in question raised an eyebrow in mild surprise as John's shouts echoed down to where he was lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands.

"Sherlock! Why can't you just..." John trailed off into dark mutterings as he stamped down the stairs and into the general living room, stopping a foot from the reclining Sherlock.

"Yes John?" Sherlock's even, mild tone did nothing to ease John's current frustrations.

"Would you mind telling me what you've been doing in my bathroom?"

Sherlock snapped his book shut and regarded the man in front of him, his lips quirking into a slight smile. There was a steady drip of water coming from John's sopping wet hair and he was dressed in only a towel. It was clear that he had just left the aforementioned bathroom.

"Experimenting," Sherlock replied, rocking forward into a sitting position.

"Experimenting?" John was incredulous for only the briefest of moments before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, spraying droplets of water in a three foot radius. "Of course you were. Of course you _bloody _were!"

"You don't mind, do you? Only my own bathroom is being used."

"Your own bathroom? Look, if you do experiments in your bathroom, that's your business. Just don't use my bathroom for them." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but John cut him off. "No exceptions."

"You've got it wrong, John."

"What?"

"I'm not using my bathroom for experiments."

"Then what...?"

"I use it as a bathroom. To shower, shave... It's not something I usually discuss so openly."

"Wait, so you thought it best to use _my _bathroom as the location for your experiments? Because it would clearly be a hassle to use your own bathroom."

"Precisely," Sherlock said, missing (or simply ignoring) the heavy sarcasm John used.

The doctor groaned in frustration. This was typical Sherlock: able to see though everything and everyone, but still spectacularly ignorant about some things (including, apparently, the idea of personal space). "So, just where exactly am I meant to shower now?"

"Oh..." As John suspected, that thought clearly hadn't occurred to Sherlock.

"Well?" John placed his hands on his hips. "Take your time thinking of a solution, Sherlock. It's not as if I'm freezing my arse off here, dripping wet, dressed only in a towel. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"Oh, I noticed," Sherlock said, grinning somewhat cheekily at John who blushed slightly. "And you can use my bathroom."

"Your bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the left," Sherlock pointed, the grin refusing to leave his face. "Feel free to use my shampoo."

"Right, uh thanks," John muttered, his anger vanishing. He then turned and left the room before his blush could deepen.

"Anytime John," Sherlock called after him before smiling to himself and returning to his book.

~ *XX* ~

Fifteen minutes later John returned to the living room, clean and fully clothed. With a sigh he flopped back into the sofa beside Sherlock. The detective lifted his legs up and then placed them back in John's lap once the doctor was settled properly.

"Thanks again."

"Anytime," Sherlock replied, his eyes not leaving the page of his book. "You found my shampoo ok."

"Yeah."

"It wasn't a question," Sherlock placed the book down, once again, and regarded John with mischievous eyes. "It was a statement."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled for a long moment, before opening them again. "I knew that shampoo would smell good on you. Your natural pheromones complement it nicely."

"W-what?"

"Oh, just an experiment," Sherlock smiled widely at John.

There was a moment of silence before it clicked and John leant back, shaking his head and laughing slightly. "I should have known. You know, you could have just asked. There was no need to rig up my shower like that."

"And miss you come running down wearing only a towel?" Sherlock blinked, feigning innocence.

John shook his head. "Don't know why I put up with you."

"Because it's me and you wouldn't want me any other way," Sherlock said, as though it was obvious.

"Of course," John nodded, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. Sherlock grinned and gently nudged the doctor with his foot.

"Tea?"

"White, two sugars," John said automatically, shifting Sherlock's legs and standing up. "God, I hate you sometimes."

"Love you too," Sherlock called as John retreated to the kitchen, a smile on his face.


End file.
